Free The Sunday Only Christian by E. N. Joy Page A

still getting beautiful for me, huh? Although I don’t think it is possible for you to get any more beautiful than you already are,” he complimented her. “So, I’ll just kill some time stopping off at a bookstore or something. You know—do an author drive-by, go see how many of my books are on the shelf—blah, blah, blah.”
    Deborah exhaled a deep sigh of relief and said, with nervous laughter, “Yes, I know how it is. Plus, I do wanna look my best.”
    â€œNo problem. I’ll see you at our scheduled time. And you better be lookin’ good.”
    â€œI will. I will,” Deborah replied and then ended the call. She wanted to pass out on the bed, but she couldn’t. She didn’t have time. She had to finish changing her son’s clothes, and unless she wanted to smell like “tinkle,” she had to change her clothes too. “Okay, fella, let’s go get you together,” she said to her son.
    Deborah took a step and then paused. She looked down at her $1,000 pair of shoes. Another “I’m sorry” gift, compliments of Elton. She was disgusted. She wasn’t disgusted at the shoes or the sexual act she performed with Elton after he had given her the shoes. At this moment, she was disgusted with what was under the shoes. “Please tell me you didn’t,” she said to her son, who offered her an “I’m sorry” smile. Like father like son.
    But her child didn’t have to say anything. When Deborah lifted her shoe, beneath it was a pile of brown, stinky, mushy stuff.
    â€œThe baby boo-boo,” her son said in the third person.
    Before Deborah could even catch herself, the big “S” word shot from her mouth, causing her son to break out in tears again.
    Unbeknownst to Deborah, the “S” word was a perfect analogy of what she was about to find herself in . . . or already had found herself in—literally.

Chapter Twelve
    â€œHow’s your steak?” Lynox asked Deborah.
    Deborah was too busy off in la-la land. She had been operating under a spirit of rush for the last hour and just couldn’t manage to reel herself back in, calm down, relax, and get it together. She had rushed to get her son cleaned up and changed. She had rushed to get herself cleaned up and changed. She’d rushed to clean up the mess off the floor. Rushing was bad enough alone, her heart rate increasing the faster she tried to go. But add panic on top of that, and it’s a high blood pressure moment waiting to happen.
    As the clock had ticked and Deborah continued to rush, she realized her mother hadn’t arrived yet. She was obviously running a few minutes behind. That wouldn’t have been so bad if Lynox hadn’t been due to arrive in just a few minutes.
    Initially Deborah had felt safe in only allowing a half-hour window in between the time she’d asked her mother to pick up her son and the time she’d told Lynox to pick her up for dinner. Thirty minutes was plenty of time for her mother to pack up her son and be long gone before Lynox ever even pulled up. But she never banked in a million years on her mother, who was always prompt, being late.
    â€œMa? Where are you?” Deborah had called and asked in a panic once she realized Lynox—who she learned not only liked to be on time, but early—was due to arrive at her house in ten minutes.
    â€œI’m sorry. I’m running a little late,” her mother apologized through the phone receiver. “Your Aunt Magnolia called me talking about nothing. But you know how hard it is to get that woman off the phone.” She laughed. Deborah didn’t. She just sat there looking stoic, tapping a nervous foot.
    â€œSo are you en route?” Deborah asked, looking down at her watch.
    â€œOh, yes. I’m just around the corner. I was about to call you as a matter of fact.”
    â€œGood!” Deborah exclaimed. Realizing she might have